


In Which They Hatef--k

by TheNightingaleLily



Series: Johnny/Female V One Shots [10]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: -slaps roof- this baby can fit so much consensual hair pulling, Breathplay, ENTHUSIASTICALLY CONSENSUAL rough sex, Explicit Language, F/M, Hate Sex, I can assure you she loves it, Rough Sex, THERE IS NO LOVE HERE, enemies to lovers babeyyyy, they loathe each other, this is just so consensual you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightingaleLily/pseuds/TheNightingaleLily
Summary: Sometimes the best sex was had with the selfish jackass of a parasite who was slowly erasing you from your own brain.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand x Female V, Johnny Silverhand x V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V, Johnny/Female V, Johnny/V, SilverV - Relationship
Series: Johnny/Female V One Shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121597
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	In Which They Hatef--k

**Author's Note:**

> tw: breathplay

“Man, last time I got choked in a hotel room I had to pay for it.”

V rolled her eyes.  _ How _ Johnny could think of sex while they stood in a room with a corpse, she had no idea. She couldn’t say she was surprised, though. “ _ The great Johnny Silverhand _ had to pay for sex?” she deadpanned, as she finished searching the room.

“Gotta support local businesses. You know how it is.”

“No. I don’t.” V stepped out of the room and made her way to the stairwell, hoping—pointlessly, she knew—that leaving would put a stop to this conversation.

Of course, Johnny simply shimmered into view in front of her, lounging on a step with his legs spread ridiculously wide. “You ever fucked in a filthy motel room?”

V sighed. “I know where this is going and it’s not happening. I have a job to do, asshole.”

“Then do it  _ quickly. _ Room’s paid for, might as well use it.” 

Johnny appeared once again before her, so close that she almost stumbled backwards down the stairs she’d just climbed.

“Come on, I’ll even let you choke me,” Johnny smirked. Before she could swat his hands away, he hooked a couple fingers through her belt loops and pulled her in close. “I know you’ve wanted to get your hands around my throat since I popped up in that pretty little head of yours.” He leaned in still closer, and V could almost feel his nonexistent breath on her ear as he whispered, “Bitch.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I fucking hate you,” V growled, and pushed past him to go get this job done.

_ Quickly. _

Room 203. V kicked open the door, and with a flick of her head, scanned the room. Four targets. Before any of them had time to even _register_ that they should grab a weapon, V had two shots off, and two bodies fell. The man remaining scrambled to find cover, but there wasn’t much to hide behind in the tiny motel room, and one more quick shots took him out.

“Alright, where’s that fuckin container,” V muttered.

In response, Johnny showed up across the room, pointing to a locker sitting against a wall. “Here, probably. Needs a code. Comp’s on that table.”

Right. V got to work searching through the comp’s messages for the code. The gonks  _ always _ left it in the messages. “So when there’s sex on the line, suddenly you’re Mister Helpful,” she said, side-eyeing Johnny.

“Wh— _ yes. _ Have you not learned by now that ‘would do anything for sex’ is my defining character trait?”

“No, I was under the impression your  _ defining character trait  _ was ‘self centered douchebag’.”

“That’s a close second,” Johnny grinned. “And it applies here. Hurry up with that code.”

“I’m  _ working on it. _ These guys were smarter than usual, their shit’s encrypted.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“D’ _ you _ wanna try to crack it, dickwipe? Shut up and let me work.”

Johnny hit her with that malicious smirk, the one he gave her whenever he successfully got a rise out of her. V hated that smirk, and yet it never failed to get her horny. And the fucker knew it.

No more words were exchanged as V found the code, unlocked the safe, grabbed the beta acid, and marched downstairs to her reserved room.

As soon as the door opened, there Johnny stood, stripped down but for his dog tags. He gave her that same smirk—that  _ damn _ smirk—before grabbing her belt and pulling her in. “I didn’t say you could fucking touch me,” she whispered against his lips.

“I don’t see you pulling away,” he whispered in turn.

Indeed she was not, but she wasn’t about to let him know just how much she wanted him, how much she  _ craved him.  _ Johnny got to work undoing her pants and V grabbed his hair by the roots and forced their lips together, her tongue playing inside his mouth, so strangely devoid of warmth.

In a moment, V’s pants were across the room and Johnny’s fingers crept between her legs, sending jolts along her spine. He maintained eye contact, maintained that disgustingly alluring smirk, as he slowly slipped his fingers inside her, grazing her inner thigh along the way. “ _ Fuuu…”  _ V breathed. She needed him, she needed him, she needed him. “Bed. On your back. Now!”

“Yes, _ma’am,”_ Johnny said. Still with that _fucking smirk_ that V would have wanted so badly to slap off his face, if it didn’t make her so goddamn wet. Of course the bastard proceeded to made a show of sauntering across the room, waggling his hips with every step. Not that V was complaining. 

Johnny lay down on the bed with one arm behind his head, silver fingers grasping his cock, eyes locked with V’s. The smirk was finally gone, replaced by a fire that filled his eyes. “Well? The fuck you waiting for?”

“Fucking  _ bastard,”  _ she shouted, and was on top of him before she had the time to register her own movement. One hand landed on his throat, the other on his chest, and Johnny guided himself inside her. The two let out a groaning gasp in tandem, the pleasure hitting them both simultaneously, spreading like fire through their shared body. Johnny’s metal hand shifted from his cock to her clit, rubbing slow strokes as his ‘ganic hand migrated up her body. 

“God,  _ Johnny,”  _ V gasped.

Gradually, she applied pressure to Johnny’s neck as she began rolling her hips against him slowly, deliberately. The moment he began gasping for air—an act he was putting on, or his mind’s instinctual response, she briefly wondered—she eased off just slightly. Through Johnny, somehow, V could feel her own breath being cut off, the faint fear of suffocation, but the chance of going too far, of blacking out, wasn’t a threat and it felt  _ incredible.  _

Johnny let out a breathless chuckle. “Are ya trying to”—a deep moan escaped his throat—”you trying to kill me, V?”

“Shut up,” V breathed. Faster and faster, she moved her hips against him and constricted his throat tighter than any living body could handle. She revelled in the cacophony of sensations—the pleasure signals from her own body, those she was receiving from Johnny, the euphoria of coming so close to suffocation—and felt the pressure building inside her. Her body entered a rhythm of motion beyond her control as the pressure built and built, her muscles began to tense, a cry fought to be freed from her throat in anticipation of—

Nothing. Because Johnny, in her moment of dissociation, had managed to convince her body to come to a halt.

“What the fuck are you doing, you son of a bitch??”

In one fluid motion, Johnny had V bent over the side of the bed and his metal fingers gripping her hair by the roots, pulling her head back to the point of causing just the right amount of pain. “My turn,” he growled into her ear.

Normally V would protest—she vastly preferred being on top—but there was one thing about Johnny that she didn’t outright loathe.

He was  _ masterful _ at fucking her from behind.

Slowly,  _ achingly _ slowly, he slid inside her. He was taking too long, too long, and V couldn’t prevent the whimper escaping her throat.

“Do you want me to fuck you, V?” Johnny purred, grazing his fingers down her inner thigh.

“Yes…” V responded, the word barely more than a breath.

He chuckled, a deep, _glorious_ sound that made her cunt tighten involuntarily around him. “You hate my guts, but you’ll let me fuck you like an animal? You’re pathetic, V.” His fingers glided back up her thigh, around her hip, and cupped her ass, his nails digging into her skin. Again, just...the right...amount...of pain...

“Fuck you,” V gasped. It was all part of the game. This fucked up, hostile game that they played where for once, the insults didn’t mean a damn thing. “You can...go to he— _ ah!” _

Suddenly he wasn’t so slow, he was fucking her full force and he was biting her neck and his hands were exploring her body and they were both gasping and screaming in perfect unison. He was consumed in her, and she in him and for just a moment V forgot that she was dying, that the man fucking her was the one killing her, as the two climaxed as one.

V collapsed on the bed in a moment of bliss—a moment cut short by Johnny, fully clothed, appearing cross-legged in front of her.

_ “How was it?”  _ he asked, in the most insufferable, condescending tone.

Right, V remembered. She couldn’t fucking stand him. She groaned and stumbled to her bag, fishing out the omega blockers. “It was awful,” she deadpanned. “Buh bye.” And she tossed back the pill. The bliss returned, this time blissful _silence,_ and V crawled into the disgusting motel bed for the best sleep she’d had in weeks.


End file.
